Mrs. Fletcher

Some of the videos Eve had stumbled upon skipped straight to the bedroom, two naked women already engaged in the usual licking and groping. She clicked out of them as soon as she realized her mistake. She needed to start at the beginning and observe the negotiation, to see how the small talk turned into flirting, to hear the magic words that got the reluctant one to accept the first kiss, or allow her blouse to be unbuttoned.

The really hot part was the epiphany, the moment when the reluctant one suddenly understands that she’s been seduced. All the good stuff happened then. The quickening of the breath. The parting of the lips. The silent granting of permission. The understanding that everything that came before had been leading inevitably to this: one mouth discovering another, a hand cupping a breast, knees spreading apart. The end of reluctance. When it was good, you could forget you were watching porn and accept it, if not as the truth, then at least as a glimpse of a better world than the one you lived in, a world where everyone secretly wanted the same thing, and no one failed to get it.

*

Dessert arrived and Eve did the honors, poking her spoon through the brittle crust of the crème br?lée into the golden custard below.

“Wow,” she said, pushing the dish across the table. “You gotta try this.”

Amanda took a little bite. Her eyes widened with theatrical wonder.

“Oh my God. If I’m still single when I’m thirty, I’m going to marry the person who made this.”

“I hope you don’t mind a ménage à trois,” Eve told her, “because I just had the exact same thought. Except for the turning thirty part.”

“I’m game if you are.” Amanda glanced toward the kitchen. “But I guess we’ll have to see what our husband thinks. Or wife.”

“I’m sure they won’t mind.”

Amanda nodded, but her face had turned serious.

“So how old is your professor?”

“Around my age. But she’s only been living as a woman for a few years. Before that she was a heterosexual man, a professional athlete with a wife and child. But she was an emotional wreck, self-medicating with alcohol and prescription drugs. She went on a business trip and tried to kill herself with an overdose. Apparently, she came pretty close. When she came out of the coma, the first thing she said was, I’m a woman. I’ve been a woman all my life.”

“That’s so cool,” Amanda said. “Studying gender theory with a trans professor. You’re really lucky.”

“It’s pretty interesting. She’s an attractive woman and there are all these middle-aged straight guys in the class. They don’t know what to make of her.”

“Really,” Amanda said, as if Eve had been holding out on her. “Any cute ones?”

Eve shook her head. “It’s a motley crew. And believe me, at this point in my life, my standards are not especially high.”

“Come on.” Amanda smiled encouragingly. “There’s gotta be someone.”

Of course there was someone. There always was, at least since junior high. It wasn’t a class if you didn’t have a little crush on someone.

“It’s crazy.” She lowered her voice, in case anyone nearby was listening. “The only person I’m the least bit attracted to is a kid. Eighteen years old. Just a baby.”

Amanda looked delighted. This was better than she’d hoped.

“That’s pretty kinky,” she said, as if kinky were a term of high praise. “I didn’t know you liked the young ones.”

“It’s not like that,” Eve said. “I just find myself watching him a lot, thinking, If only I were your age.”

“What’s he look like?”

“He’s really thin, almost like a girl. Not too tall. Long hair. Beautiful eyes.”

“Smart?”

“I’m not sure.” Eve had only talked to Julian once, and he hadn’t said very much. “Kinda hard to pin him down. For the first couple of classes, I thought he might be gay. But it turns out he identifies as straight.”

“How’d you find that out?”

“We do these peer interviews where we’re supposed to articulate all this stuff people usually just take for granted.”

“What did you say?” Amanda seemed genuinely curious, as if Eve’s sexuality and gender identity were shrouded in mystery.

“I said straight. Cisgender. Nothing too exciting.”

Amanda nodded, as if she’d figured as much. Did she look disappointed, maybe just a little? Eve wished she could qualify her answer, explain that she was very turned on by lesbian porn at the moment, and was trying to figure out what that meant. But she’d need a few more glasses of wine before she’d dream of making a confession like that.

“So would you ever do it?” Amanda asked. “Hook up with a guy that young?”

“No way.” Eve grimaced at the thought. “He went to high school with my son. I’m old enough to be his mother.”

“You’re a MILF,” Amanda said, very matter-of-factly. “It happens.”

Eve was momentarily startled by the term, and the ease with which Amanda had used it in public. In her mind, it was a dirty word, not to be spoken out loud. But also a compliment.

“I don’t know about that,” she said, smiling modestly.

“Look at it this way,” Amanda told her. “If a guy your age went out with a college girl, people would congratulate him.”

“I wouldn’t. I’d think he was a creep. And I’d feel sorry for the girl.”

“Even if she didn’t feel sorry for herself?”

“It’s not gonna happen,” Eve said. “It’s not even in the realm of possibility.”

“I’m sure the kid would be thrilled. It’s like a porn fantasy come true. I did it with my best friend’s mom.”

“They’re not best friends. They barely knew each other.”

Amanda scraped the last bit of crème br?lée from the bowl. Her face turned thoughtful as she sucked on her spoon.

“I wouldn’t mind dating a younger guy. I’ve only been hooking up with older men lately, and I could definitely use a change.”

“Really? How much older?”

“Mostly forties. Some fifties.”

“Wow.” Eve nodded in a way that she hoped came off as nonjudgmental. “Is that a preference or just a coincidence?”

“Little of both.” Amanda’s tongue flicked out, expertly removing a stray dab of cream from her upper lip. “They’re nicer than guys my age.”

“Where do you meet them?”

“Tinder, mostly.” She watched Eve closely, trying to gauge her reaction.

“So you meet strange guys and have sex with them?”

Eve wanted the question back as soon as she’d asked it. But Amanda didn’t seem to mind.

“They’re not that strange,” she said, smiling at her own joke.

*

Tom Perrotta's books